


From The Ritz To The Rubble

by MXRI



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MXRI/pseuds/MXRI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and your friend, Yachi Hitoka, come across a certain duo of bouncers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Ritz To The Rubble

**Author's Note:**

> **Setting** : Bouncer AU.  
> Take note I cannot describe drunk people. - **sob** -  
>  ~~I still think it looks like LSD AU~~.
> 
> Daisuga is merely mentioned.  
> I couldn't help it.
> 
> Once again, I recommend listening to From The Ritz To The Rubble by Arctic Monkeys. 
> 
> This was originally posted [here](http://www.quotev.com/story/5781142/%D0%BC%CF%85%D1%95%CE%B9c-%C9%97%D1%8F%CE%B1%D0%B2%D0%B2%C6%96%D1%94%D1%95/3/).

 

You've been standing on the queue for almost an hour. Actually, you and your blonde friend, Hitoka Yachi.

 

Both of you have been pretty hyped recently — you were legal adults! And how to celebrate such achievement? By going to a bar, you two decided.

 

Looking ahead — as it was your turn on the line, you spotted two men. Two bouncers, in reality. The one on the left had a peaceful expression, surprisingly enough if not reassuring. Grey messy locks and hazel optics; the beauty mark fit his features perfectly, you thought. But on the other side, you saw the tallest man you've probably seen in your entire life. Short blonde hair, glasses and golden orbs. He would be considered attractive in your eyes if not for the menacing glare he gave towards you two. You could almost hear Yachi cringe in fear; he was indeed intimidating.

 

"Identifications."  
The scary one demanded, his voice as monotone as his unimpressed face.

 

With a gulp you proceeded to hand him your identity. Yachi did the same, too scared to look up at the giant man.

 

You stood there waiting for him to allow you to enter — that until he chuckled, a smug look in his face. You and Yachi exchanged a confused look.

 

"Move out."  
He demanced once more.

 

Did he think your IDs were fake of any sort? Did you look that young? At any rate. . .

 

With lips twitching in annoyance you blurted out.

 

"What the fuck."

 

* * *

 

Yachi still quaked in fear and you did nothing but furrow your brows.

 

You had been forced out of the line and decided to try a second attempt, gladly this time the queue was moving faster.

 

"Totalitarian mountain."  
You had mumbled likely to none in particular, each minute a step closer to getting inside. Or not.

 

There you two stood in front of the man from earlier; he looked rather than amused.  
The other guy kinda just stood there. . ?

 

You considered asking him why hadn't he granted you access to the bar, or even if he was going to ask for your IDs once more, when you had an idea. It was probably going to be your end, you mused. But then again,  _why_ _not_ _?_

 

Your right hand closed into a fist as a light smirk appeared on your lips. That didn't seem to faze him the slightest — he still treathened you with a fierce glare.

  

"Why don't you just leave already? You're not—"

 

_I'm_ _dead._

  
_They'll_ _feed_ _me_ _to_ _vultures_ _._

 

_Or_ _cannibals_ _._

 

_Or_ _cannibal_ _vultures_ _._

 

Yes, you had just decided your fate; the end of your own existence. The menacing bouncer held onto his nose with both hands — honestly, you didn't think you could land a punch like that, much less punch someone!

 

The alright guard stared at you both, muffling out his laughter. If you were to die — you assured you were — you would want it to be in his hands. Such precious being.  
Swiftly turning to the entranceway, you sideglanced at your friend.

 

"Yachi, let's—"

 

"NO, I DON'T WANNA GO TO JAIL AND BECOME SOMEONE'S PRISON BITCH AND GET OUT ONLY TO LIVE IN POVERTY AND MY JAIL INSTINCTS!"

 

And with that she ran off.

 

With your mouth hanging open and mentally pleading, you made a run to the bar and not actually giving a shit about bad guard's nose. He was used to that, right?

 

_Right_.

 

You hurriedly closed the door behind you and allowed yourself to get lost in the middle of the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Mean guard hadn't gone after you, much to your liking.

 

You found the opportunity to sit and perhaps enjoy a few drinks here and there.

 

The bartender watched you, amused, as you kept on rambling about absolute nonsense — things like how you thought your cat had ruined your carpet by now, that you had almost no tea left back at your house and even how much you wanted to have brought your blanket with you. Go figure.

 

The rambling seemed to amuse a few people sitting around the bar. Like you cared. You were too drunk to care — you weren't a heavy drinker so a mere glass made you reach a drunk state.

 

Your speech about how your cat had beautiful heterochromia was interrupted by a hand almost digging itself inside your shoulder. Grumpily — and not exactly sober — turning around you saw your doom with your own eyes. Although you didn't seem fazed, you internally flinched. The tiniest sober part that still remained caused your eyes to widen.

 

"Having fun?"  
His venomous voice and smug face almost made you consider punching him again.  _Almost_ _._  In fact, his face seemed alright — other than a really red nose.

 

You shrugged and returned to your drink. Quickglacing at you he turned to sit by your side. You rose a glass at him, brows furrowed, wondering why, of all people, he sat by your side.  _Maybe_ _he's_ _plotting_ _my_ _death_ _._

 

Ignoring his whole existence you continued with your random rambling.

 

"What if someone enters my house and steals my cat?"

 

That made the mean guard choke on his own drink.

 

Turning your head to him, you stared at him in wonder. "Are you here to kick me out?"

 

"Like hell I am."

He rolled his eyes, "This is my shift break."

 

Replying with a silent 'Oh' you took one last sip of your now empty drink. You stood there for a few solid minutes staring at the corner; the mean guard caught sight of that.

 

"I'd ride that little piece of heaven 'til the sun and back." You blurted out, your eyes gleaming in amazement.

 

"You know—"

 

You interrupted his scoff by slamming your fist against the table.

 

"You're shitting me. That heavenly creature," you pointed at the 'alright guard' from before. "Is gay?"

 

The grey-haired male was actually making out with a taller male.

 

He swore he saw all the hope leaving your eyes.

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly enough you've been having fun with the mean guard — which you discovered to be named Kei Tsukishima.

 

Moments before you were still lamenting over the fact Koushi Sugawara — you also learned his name — had a boyfriend. Tsukishima was laughing at your dramatic behavior.

 

You both shared a few drinks to the point you were drunk, well, you even more drunk.

 

"You know Tsukishima, you're not ugly."

Dramatically throwing your hands in the air, you fell to his lap.

 

Then again, Tsukishima wasn't too sober to care about what was going on. He patted you on the head and glanced at the neon lights.

 

"I wonder how those are even made."

 

You poked his cheek and grumbled, "Rainbows, you idiot."

 

"Oh."

 

He didn't seem to mind as you were clutching to his attire — somehow the whole ambience seemed to get his attention. Minor details he had never noticed, the color of the furniture, etc.

 

"Let's go get some milkshakes."

 

"They don't serve milkshakes."

 

"Bullshit. Why do you even work here?"

 

"Because one day I'll own this place and turn it into my own strip club."

 

"Nice."   
You hissed — still annoyed due the lack of milkshakes — and rested your head against his chest.

 

"Will they serve milkshakes there?"

 

"Absolutely."

 

* * *

 

The rambling about pure nonsense raged 'til 3 in the morning until Tsukishima — still not so sober — called it a night. You pursued him like a shadow, even entering the taxi with him. He didn't seem to mind.

 

Soon you reached an unknown place — Tsukishima's apartment, actually.

 

He told you to stay by the car as he had no money, going upstairs with the help of his friend doorman.

 

Commenting about how the moon was glowing distracted you and the driver, as soon as the bouncer came back with his money.

 

On the way to the elevator — with the help of the sober doorman to guide the wasted adults — you couldn't help but keep staring at the poor man; you weren't in your normal-self state, after all.

 

"W-what is it?"  
Said man asked, shifting weight from foot to foot awkwardly.

 

"Your ponytail and earrings. . ."

 

"They're too feminine, are they not?"

 

"No. They're hot."

 

That caused him to get all flustered while you stood expressionless. Tsukishima just stood there swaying his arms around until you arrived at the desired floor.

 

"I love you, doorman."  
You had said after poking his stomach, him bringing you home safe — what if you ended up getting lost in your own unknown/drunk state and fell asleep in a trashcan?

 

Why were you even at his house?

 

That question never quite crossed your mind.

 

Bidding your goodbye to the attractive doorman you made your way to Tsukishima's couch and sat there, staring blankly at the ground.

 

He made his way to the kitchen grumbling the inaudible to your ears.

 

"Am I going to die?"

You said out loud, feeling a strange burning sensation inside your throat.

 

The male sat by your side, setting the glass of water he had in hands to a nearby table.

 

"What are you feeling?"

 

"I feel like I might die."

 

"Especify."

 

"Well,—" 

Before both of you could react, you had thrown up on his lap.

 

You shared blank looks before you threw yourself on the ground, shamefully.

 

He awkwardly as ever stood up and left.

 

You were planning to die of shame, but your sober side feared he was plotting your death, again.

 

He came back in a more casual set of clothes, throwing a plain grey shirt and long shorts your way.

 

Peeking to look (as you were face-first against the ground) you took the fabric and stumbled your way to a random  room.

 

* * *

 

He hadn't acknowledged you hadn't come back after some time. In fact, Tsukishima  had forgotten you were at his home.

 

Stretching his arms, he made his way to his room — not bothering to turn the lights on — and plopped on his bed.

 

* * *

 

Warmth.

 

You could feel pure warm embracing you.

 

Too tired to open your eyes, you proceeded to snuggle with its source; which you assumed was your pillow.

 

_Wait._

 

You could feel a pulse.

 

Better yet, a heartbeat.

 

Daringly you perked your eyes open only to find a man in front of you.

 

Startled and scared for dear life, you automatically kicked at his ribcage and caused him to fall from the bed.

 

"WHO _THE FUCK_ ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE? IN FACT, ON MY BED."

 

You covered your body with the blanket, afraid of the worst, even though you checked to make sure nothing had gotten out of hand — you were indeed wearing clothes.

 

You twitched as you saw the man sat up, rubbing his eyes.

 

"What are you talking about? This is my house."

 

"EH?!"

 

"Wait! You're that woman–"

 

"–bouncer from yesterday!"

 

"Fuck my life."

 

"I punched your face."

 

"You did."

 

You stood awkwardly staring at each other in silence for quite some time.

 

"Why am I even here?"

 

"You're one to talk."

 

"Me?! You didn't try anything stupid, d-did you?"

 

"Assuming we're both in fact wearing clothes, no. I don't think so."

 

"Nice assumption."

 

"Just stating the facts. By the way, would you care to have breakfast?"

 

"Are you even real?"

 

"Are you hungry or not?"

 

"Honestly, you're going to let a stranger inside your house? What if I'm a wanted criminal for attempted murder?"

 

"You're already inside my house, though." He gave you a half-assed smug look of his own. "If you were in fact a murderer, it's most likely you'd had me killed before we even had this conversation."

 

"I suppose so."

You grumbled and got up from the bed, looking down at the enormous set of clothes you wore.

 

"Fancy."

He scoffed, walking out of the room.

 

"W-wait up! I'm hungry!"

 


End file.
